You Leave Fingerprints On Everything You Touch
by TheOneWithTheObsessions
Summary: Or, In Which there is Tequila, and LaF loves science. (based on a tumblr post). LaFerry.


**A/N: Written for a tumblr post. x-posted at a03 and my tumblr. _(liked by Kbear herself! whaaat). _Written at 3am, all mistakes are mine. Don't own Carmilla. FOR THE CAPTAIN.**

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><p>You wake up in the morning and your mouth tastes like tequila and regret. Pretty much everything after the second film you and Per watched is a blur. You groan, and open your eyes to see where you've managed to crash out this time (last time Perry walked into her en suite to find you curled up in the shower cubicle. She hasn't let you live it down.) And you're actually pretty fucking surprised. This looks like your room. Maybe. (You haven't seen it in a while). That poster looks pretty familiar, and your fairly sure that's your shirt from that 'art assignment' (extra credit to throw paint around the quad for some seniors final performance art piece, what can you say? You're a sucker for being allowed to throw things at annoying people) thing a couple of weeks ago. Huh. You don't think you've been in here since then. What with the entire vampire cabal thing and the alchemy department, and all of Laura's crazy and Perry (mostly Perry) you've been basically living with her. (Most of your stuff has slowly migrated over to her rooms over the course of the school year anyway). Besides, her rooms are so much nicer than yours and come with a cleaning service. (Not provided by campus, she's just really obsessive about being neat). And urgh, you know it's going to be a ass long day when you can't stop rambling in your own head. So, the hundred dollar question: How in the hell did you get back here? Because Perry's rooms are at the other side of the dorm, and from the vague blur that is your memory you two were having a pretty epic discussion about science-y something or other (you were probably carrying that conversation), whilst some awful film played in the background. At least you think so. Sounds about right anyway. So why are you laying here rather than being curled up somewhere in Lola's room?<p>

You roll over and clamber off of the clothing pile that is your bed (wardrobes are for idiots who actually give a crap) searching around yourself for where you flung your phone. (Hint. Mini-fridge. It's always in the mini-fridge). Thankfully it's survived its night (again) next to your control samples, (apart from a little bit of frost in one corner which melts away with a swipe of your thumb). You tap out a quick message to Perry, asking if she knows why you didn't stay over, and did she want to go get breakfast with you. She responds quickly, saying (quote) 'I LOOKED AWAY FOR TWO SECONDS TO FETCH MORE BROWNIES AND WHEN I GOT BACK YOU HAD RUN AWAY. AND LAF IT'S 4PM WE CANNOT GET BREAKFAST, THATS A RIDICULOUSLY UNHEALTHY EATING HABIT.'

(The all-caps are her thing. It's totally not cause you may have fiddled with her settings and now you can't work out how to stop it. You think it's cute though so whatever.)

You type out your reply whilst sifting through the scattered clothing on the floor in search of something that looks clean enough to be seen in. Because bacon waits for no-hangover-as-fuck person. (And you need that on a t-shirt so much right now). You feel kind of bad for running out on your best-friend (tequila. It's always tequila's fault) so you might have to beg a little to get her to come out with you. (The offer of buying one of her ridiculously expensive tea things is usually enough, but for this you might have to spring for cake as well). She replies that she's on her way over whilst you're trying to stuff your hair under a beanie because you cannot deal with it today until there are at least 3 cups of coffee and a pound of bacon inside of you. You send her the sappiest emoji you can find.

Breakfast (or in Perry's case, cake_ 'it's called afternoon tea LaFontaine'_) is perfect. You actually feel like a human again as you head back towards the dorm room hand in hand. You're trying desperately to recall what happened to make you run out on her last night, but the only thing that's stuck in your head is your drunken voice rambling on about dactyloscopy and then there was a vague rant about CSI. You turn to Perry, who's been walking beside you and humming in the back of her throat and mumble an apology for talking too much last night about stuff that you know bores her to death.

She looks at you with something like confusion for a moment before her expression clears and you can see the laughter hiding behind her eyes. She tugs you into a hug, and murmurs gently into your neck,

"Laf, You sat on the couch for two hours last night staring at our fingertips. The only thing you kept saying was 'how?'"

You feel your face flame, and bury it in her shoulder quickly.

She holds you closer and whispers that she never wants you to change. You mutter that you're never touching tequila again (You both know that's a lie).

She looks at you with joy written across the lines of her face the rest of the walk home.

(You can't stop wondering how you got so lucky).

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><p><em>N.B: dactyloscopy: the study of fingerprint identification.<em>


End file.
